


A New Leash On Life

by AnOddSock



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: And they are well versed in it, Awkward Sexual Situations, Banter, Canon-Typical Violence, Collars, Consent Issues, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hate Sex, Leashes, Light Bondage, M/M, Manhandling, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Saying each others names in exasperation is a love language, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29428101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnOddSock/pseuds/AnOddSock
Summary: “What was that?” Jaskier asked, settling down on his back, strumming his fingers on his stomach.“I said that I should keep you on a tighter leash.”Jaskier thought Geralt said it in jest, which was really his last in a long line of mistakes—Geralt didn’t make these kind of jokes. Geralt's first thought was always for an uncomplicated life and in this matter as ever, he was completely and utterly serious.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 13
Kudos: 59





	A New Leash On Life

**Author's Note:**

> Not long after I started writing this my good friend Loup sent me a photo of one of the passages in one of the books where Geralt actually says the thing on which the entire fic hinges word for word... so I guess this is canon now ;) enjoy!
> 
> (More tags to be added later with subsequent chapters, but I will preface by saying the consent issues are not, for the most part, about anything sexual just the whole... putting Jaskier on a leash thing. But there *will* be a spanking without consent. So be aware of that before you head in and if it's something you have discomfort about I suggest not reading.)

It was a pattern that Jaskier had come to rely on. Geralt would turn up in the nick of time and all would be well. So as annoyed as he might pretend to be he wasn’t surprised when Geralt pulled him away from the would-be-fight with a rough hand curled into the back of his shirt collar. 

“Geralt! Wait, Geralt, I was about to teach this man that he can’t disrespect the good art of singing!”

Geralt grunted and Jaskier twisted in his grip, pulled himself free, only for Geralt’s arm to snake around his waist and keep walking him backward. “Get. Off.”

“No, I’m not cleaning up after you again.”

“Like you’ve ever been the one to clean blood stains out of my clothes.”

“Your clothes aren’t the only thing that need cleaning up.”

“Well, true, I can’t argue with that,” Jaskier grinned. He made a rude gesture at the man he had been intending to fight, and turned around, laughing, to let his friend guide them away.

* * *

“Ah, see, the thing is, well, I didn’t _mean_ to insult all three of you. No, I was only talking to this fellow here when I said—”

“We’re brothers,” the second man growled. “Anything you say about him, you say about _us._ ”

“Right, yes, I can see how you'd think that, and that does, uhmm.” His back hit a solid wall, having stepped away as far as the confines of the space allowed. “That does complicate things for me, a little, but I think the thing you don’t realise—” he scanned the room, sidling sideways only for one brother to take a step forward and block his path, “the thing you need to know,” his eyes found Geralt, appearing back through the doorway from the privy. “Is that _he,_ is with _me_.”

All three brothers turned at once and their sneers turned into scoffs of disbelief. “You expect us to believe that?”

“I expect you to fear that,” he said, suddenly smug, knowing he’d pulled an ace from the deck. “Quite rightly too, he’s a force to be reckoned with. Geralt!”

The Witcher’s gaze landed on him and his scowl deepened. He strode over and crossed his arms over his chest. “Got yourself in trouble again?”

He hummed noncommittally, feigned a shy smile that quickly turned into a grin. “I’m never in too much trouble with you around.”

“Hmppphh. Shouldn’t rely on me so much. One day I might let someone teach you a lesson.”

“You know him, then?” The first brother, the one he’d _actually_ meant to insult asked, shifting from foot to foot, suddenly unsure.

“Unfortunately.” Geralt reached past all three of them and hauled Jaskier out by the arm. “And your fun is over.”

“He insulted us!”

Geralt considered that, waited for Jaskier to shrug sheepishly, and then rolled his eyes. “I’m sure he did.”

“He deserves to regret what he said,” the third brother said, clearly the bravest as he tried to stand in front of Geralt and prevent them from leaving. 

“He does, but you won’t be the one to do it. Now _move.”_

Geralt didn’t wait for him to step aside, just barrelled past them, dragging Jaskier along too. He dragged them all the way up the stairs to the room they’d rented for the night—two beds and one bathtub, a roaring fire and not much floor space to stand in. Jaskier laughed as he tumbled into the room, admittedly still a little drunk.

“Sleep it off.”

“Whatever you say, my dear Witcher. I owe you for that.” Jaskier feigned a half-bow and set about unlacing his boots.

Geralt growled and flung himself on his own bed. “As for many other things.”

“I’m sure I can make it up to you, somehow,” Jaskier sing-songed as he fought with his boots and stockings. “And oh the fun we shall have.”

“You’ve had enough fun to last a lifetime.”

“Never! There’s always more delights to savour, more women to bed, more men to insult. I shall dip my toe in many streams before the year is out, just you wait and see.”

Geralt mumbled something. “What was that?” Jaskier asked, settling down on his back, strumming his fingers on his stomach.

“I _said_ that I should keep you on a tighter leash.”

Jaskier laughed and didn’t think any more of it.

He really should’ve thought more of it.

* * *

Jaskier wasn’t immune to noticing how his antics, both retold and new, set Geralt to grinding his teeth more than normal. But a leopard couldn’t change his spots and so he regaled his friend with stories and set about making new ones, too. In the next town Geralt disappeared with a grunt into a leather workers shop and Jaskier set about finding them lodgings.

He became distracted along the way by a beautiful maid with long hair and the promise of marriage the week after next, which was pretty much the way these things usually went and he didn’t think much of it. He enjoyed the small intimacies of someone up close and incredibly personal, completely willing to be hands on after walking around with the grumpiest person alive for weeks on end. 

Geralt found them at the inn, already halfway into each other’s clothes, and his glower and intimidating stature drove her from the room with a squeak. Irritated, Jaskier waved his undershirt at Geralt in what he hoped was a threatening manner.

“Do I need to place a sign on the door, warning you not to enter? I could’ve had the night of my _life._ You know, you enjoy ruining things far too much.” He pointed accusingly and then looked away and took a swig of wine.

He missed the moment Geralt huffed and dropped his bags, only turning back in time to see Geralt stride over until he was inches from Jaskier’s face. Geralt bodily forced him back against the wall. “And you ruin things without a second thought.”

“As much as I enjoy sharing personal space, this is a _little_ close.” 

“Keeping you close is the only way to keep you in line,” Geralt growled. 

Batting uselessly at the stronger man's body he didn’t even notice the strip of brown leather that was suddenly awfully close to his neck, not until it was too late. The leather wrapped tight, snapped closed and a tiny metal lock clicked closed, keeping the loop together.

Jaskier gasped, whipped his hand to his throat and pulled experimentally. There was enough room for two fingers to slip beneath the band, but no chance of loosening it or pulling it free. Geralt’s words the previous week came back to him. _Leashes, tighter,_ and now...

“Very funny, Witcher. Ha ha, good joke.”

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” Geralt asked, pushing his body closer so all Jaskier could feel were the ways in which he was _caught._

“No but then you never do. What on the gods green earth do you mean by all,” he waved at his throat, and Geralt’s close proximity. “... this?”

“You’re really going to pretend ignorance, now? It doesn’t suit you.”

Geralt backed up a step and Jaskier rubbed self-consciously at his neck, absolutely not oblivious to the way Geralt’s eyes lingered on his throat. “And you think a bit of leather… does suit me?”

“Mmm. It also has other uses.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to ask what they might be, and closed it again when he realised he knew the answer but just didn’t want to face it. Opened his mouth again to try and think of something clever to say, and scrubbed a hand across his eyes when he found no quippy come-back at all. This was all entirely uncharacteristic of Geralt, and it left him perplexed… though not as distrubed as he expected.

“Oh and it makes you quiet too! There’s an unforeseen benefit.” Geralt smiled his infuriating half-smile, eyes glinting, and crossed his arms. A wall of pure muscle and intense focus between Jaskier and the rest of the room. A powerhouse that had another, different and longer, strip of leather dangling from one closed fist.

“Alright, I’ll play along, what’s the game here?”

“No game. Only control and a little less stress for me.”

Something in his nether regions rather liked the thought of _control_. Something that wanted to make itself known but he couldn’t give it his full attention as Geralt reached out one muscled forearm and dragged Jaskier closer—by the very collar that had just sent his entire world spinning like a top. Jaskier dug his heels in but it made little difference, it was hard to resist a tug on the throat without choking.

Other things grew harder too at the brief battle for dominance, and Jaskier cringed in silence as Geralt clipped the—what Jaskier’s mind knew was a leash, saw was a leash, understood in the abstract was a fucking strip of leather designed to control and corall a disobedient _animal_ —the _thing_ to the front of the goddamn collar that was locked around his neck. 

“Geralt!”

Geralt only grunted and dug around in a pocket for another tiny, golden lock. Jaskier threw a hand up, covering and clawing at the band and the leash clipped to the ring at the front. Geralt didn’t hurt him, only waited for him to fall still and then pried his hand away and locked leash and collar together.

Shaking a little, eyes wide and face flushed, Jaskier stood with his hands on his hips as Geralt stepped back, letting the leash hang between them loosely. There was enough slack that it didn’t pull, but the end was firmly held in Geralt’s fist.

“You are un _believ_ able. This is very theatrical, but not at all practical. I demand my personal space back. I demand my… my—my throat back!”

Geralt shrugged with one shoulder, twisted his wrist and hauled Jaskier closer one agonising inch at a time. Even with his hands to cling to the leather and try to pull back it was a useless tug of war. What good was the strength of lute paying fingers against the brute strength of a Witcher?

“Seems effective to me,” Geralt growled once Jaskier was close enough that he could feel the breath fan over the planes of his face.

“I need a drink, several drinks. And you—you need to see a… I don’t know, someone. You definitely need to see someone about your,” Jaskier waved his hand, and then slumped to let it rest on Geralt’s rock-hard peck. “Your _you-_ ness.”

“No more drinking tonight. You’ve had enough.”

Geralt practically waltzed them to bed, spinning them around and walking Jaskier backwards until his knees hit the bed frame and he all but crumpled onto the scratchy sheets. One unholy screech of furniture being shoved over floorboards later and Geralt had both beds tucked neatly together. Geralt moved practically around the room blowing out all the candles, extinguished the fire until it was nothing more than glowing embers, and Jaskier only realised he hadn’t taken the chance to get back up as Geralt climbed in beside him. The leash was grabbed, held in Geralt’s iron grip again, and once that was done Geralt immediately closed his eyes. Jaskier fiddled with the clasp on the collar, unsure what to say or do. His other hand hovering somewhere above his crotch as he contemplated finishing what the night had begun.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Gross, of course not.” His face flushed red, and he closed his eyes against the embarrassment, glad the darkness hid him from view. “I mean, what?”

“Sleep, Jaskier, we have a long ride ahead of us.”

“You have a long ride, I have a long walk.”

Geralt sighed and manoeuvred closer, his grip on the leash travelled higher, until his entire forearm rested across Jaskier’s stomach and chest. Geralt held on tightly barely a hands span from Jaskier’s throat. It almost made Jaskier giggle it was so absurd. If you’d asked him an hour ago he never would’ve guessed the night would end here. Here in the bed, perhaps, but not like this.

“We could get you a horse,” Geralt muttered into his pillow.

“We could, but we hardly ever do,” Jaskier huffed, tried to roll over only to find his way blocked by the weight of Geralt’s arm, and the choke hold on the leash that kept him firmly in place.

“So sleep, then.”

“Yes well that’s easy for you to say isn’t with your comfort and sleepiness and _not having a collar locked around your neck._ Geralt are you even listening—”

He was met with a loud snore, and rolled his eyes. Geralt never fell asleep this quickly. Jaskier watched the rise and fall of his friend’s chest, lit by the firelight in the grate and the moonlight that shone off the white-silver hair until it seemed to glow. If this little prank could give Geralt a peaceful night's sleep, he supposed that was something at least. A less grouchy Witcher was better for all involved.

If Jaskier was thinking poetically, he’d think it was the start of something new, or maybe the end of the way things used to be. As it was, he couldn’t think much at all, distracted by the even breaths and inviting heat that emanated from beside him.

His body yearned for the heat and the comfort of companionship. The safety it brought. He stifled a yawn even as his blood sang in his veins; he was far too hopped up for sleep, and it was going to be a very long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be a little wait between chapters, I do have more written but it needs editing, and after that I need to get back to getting words on the page, but I thought posting it would give me incentive to take this out of the WIP pile where it's been languishing. I estimate 5 chapters, it might grow or shrink by one or two, we'll see where it takes me
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed so far, let me know what you think with a comment if you have the energy, especially if there's anything you'd like to see now Jaskier is all leashed up 0.0


End file.
